


9 Lives

by IHopeThisDoesntAffectMyFuture



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Oops, Reincarnation, i feel like this is shit, i only write smut so this might be bad, i wrote this instead of doing homework, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHopeThisDoesntAffectMyFuture/pseuds/IHopeThisDoesntAffectMyFuture
Summary: Sal had a secret, a secret he kept hidden for a long time. For hundreds of lifetimes to be exact.





	9 Lives

**Author's Note:**

> To my friend Sophia: Sorry if this is shit, I only know how to write porn.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve died before?” Travis’ eyes were tearing up at this point, his hands dug into Sal’s sweater, the cashmere one he had knitted for Sal’s birthday.

“Travis,” Sal was sobbing now, tears rolled down his scarred face, cupping Travis’ cheeks in his hands. “I’m immortal. Every time I die, I come back to life. Every time I die, the scars from all of my past lives stay with me. I don’t look like this from a dog attack, I look like this because of World War two, when we held each other right before we were burnt alive, in 1976 when I was stabbed to death, I got my scars from when we were robbed by pirates in Paris in 1692, I…”

Travis was bawling, shaking, his head buried into his boyfriend’s chest. “Don’t fuck with me like this, how the hell- how is this possible?”

A rusted, metal box laid in the middle of their apartment, next to it there were scattered polaroids and old photos of people that looked like them, but couldn’t be them. Because Travis never went to Woodstock in 1969, Travis had never been in the military in 1942, Travis had never been to England when the big ben was being built.  
There were a countless number of letters that couldn’t have been written by Travis because he had never learned how to write in script, never used a typewriter, never written on parchment paper.

Travis had never played guitar, but there was a wooden pick with his name carved into it. Travis had never been a painter, but there was a painting of Sal sitting underneath a willow tree wearing clothes from the early ’20s, his face with fewer scars. Travis had no idea how to cook, yet there was an article from 1941 of 95 year old him opening his own restaurant.

The floor was scattered with buttons, and rings, and necklaces made out of bones, and a slab of stone with a cave painting of two men with symbols surrounding them.

“Travis,” Sal didn’t know how to start, he didn’t know if he had just fucked up by telling Travis the truth. “Right before I die, I bury my belongings in this box and hide it where only I can find it.” The smaller man picked up one of the photos from when they were at a music festival. “Every time I am reborn I search for you, nonstop. It breaks my heart that I always have to start all over again. I have all of these memories but you don't remember anything from your past lives. Because of the internet, it was easier to find you this time,” Sal places the picture on the bed and buried his face into Travis’ shoulder, eyes bursting like dams. “But sometimes I can't find you, sometimes I go an entire lifetime without finding you.”

Travis was so in shock from this confession. He pulled Sal into his lap, holding him and running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.  
They sat like this, in each other's embrace, sobbing until they were too dehydrated to cry any longer.

“Sal, I love you.” Travis continued to hold him. He didn’t try to kiss Sal. He didn’t even try to look at him. He just held the smaller man in his arms, finally starting to comprehend everything that Sal had told him.

Sal had seen so much, felt so much, been through so much. This curse, immortality, was sometimes too much to bear. He’d gone through an eternity's worth of sorrow, lifetimes worth of pain, watching endless loved ones die. But he also lived through so many wonderful lives. He had seen beautiful sights all over the world, he had listened to an infinite amount of music that rang through his soul, he had danced with the sunrise, had experienced adventure, and had fallen in love time and time again with the love of his lives.

Every life he lived was painful, but seeing Travis was worth it. Being with him, being held by him, kissing him, marrying him, growing old with him. Living and loving Travis was worth all the pain and sorrows in the world. Watching the world becoming more accepting of homosexuality was a gift, and finally being able to be open with his relationship with his boyfriend was so blissful, he couldn’t even describe it.

With the floor hidden by piles of antique artifacts, the pair fell asleep in each other's arms. And in the morning, they greeted each other with a kiss unlike any other they had shared before. It was full of understanding, joy, and a deeper connection than any couple could have ever experienced.

Sal’s weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And as he smiled into his lover’s lips, the taller male placed his hand over Sal’s chest to feel his heartbeat.  
For the first time, Travis realized that Sal’s chest did not have a heartbeat.

 


End file.
